Shades of Grey
by GoldCanStay
Summary: Previously posted on my live journal account under the title "Breakfast and Bats" Just a little one-shot, enjoy! Paul/Mellie and a little bit of Echo.


_Previously posted on my live journal account under the title "Breakfast and Bats" Just a little one-shot, enjoy!_

_ Spoilers: Do NOT read if you haven't seen "Man on the street", seriously, it's too good to spoil!Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns all of Dollhouse, I just like to play with it._

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* * *

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_"The Dollhouse exists."_

Soft hands aimed crushing blows at his body.

Brown eyes mocked, accused, enraged him.

But he couldn't move.

Just let the blows rain down on his face, chest, motionless.

She stilled, stared at his prone form pinned against the filthy wall as he squinted down at her.

She wasn't constant, wasn't real, appearance and personality flickering back and forth with each passing second.

"Caroline." He had to name her, to make her stay, make her see.

But it wasn't enough to banish the blankness from her eyes.

"You have a fantasy ,we all do, we need them to survive."

She kissed him.

_And he let her._

* * *

That dream.

_Again._

He hated it, didn't understand it…. didn't _want _to understand it. Paul sighed and rubbed his tired eyes, suspended with nothing to do and still he couldn't sleep past 6:15 in the morning. Maybe he was an subconsciously a masochist?

It would explain a lot.

The unfamiliar sheets, much nicer than his own, were pulled tight against his body…the woman next to him surprisingly selfish when it came to warmth. Paul shifted onto his side and stared at the blue-eyed beauty next to him. He wasn't some Rick, he cared about her, maybe not as much as she did for him, but he still. He wasn't about to dump the stock before it went to the public, or some crap like that.

And now he wanted a doughnut.

Mellie stretched next to him, smiling even in her sleep and Paul felt the stirrings of something not quite love but close…

So why all the dreams about Caroline?

He knew what the others thought those smirking and snickering "agents" who couldn't investigate their way out of a paper bag. Knew that even Mellie had thought it of him, gave him that heart-wrenching look of resignation and insecurity. It had hurt him to see that in Mellie's eyes, the one person who believed him, believed _in_ him. So he reached out and went against every instinct in his federal agent body to show her he felt it too it was just…

_She_ needed him.

And he desperately wanted it.

So he'd thrown every rule in the book out the window and followed the breadcrumbs scattered or shoved into his the Dollhouse to hell and back. But what did he really know?

Nothing.

Caroline could be nothing more than false lead, a trap the Dollhouse lured him into to…to…god knows what. She could be real and nothing more than a very, _very_ talented actress. Hell, _he_ could be a Doll acting out some billionaire's favorite show-

"Careful, you might strain something." Mellie's teasing voice took him away from the confusing and paranoid twists of semi-logic he'd found himself living in lately.

"Thanks for the concern," He returned her grin and leaned in closer to her, "but I think it's a few hours too late."

Why didn't he make her laugh more often?

Definitely something to put on his to do list…right after breakfast.

"How about I go grab us some doughnuts, give Rick ten different orders and then go to the other shop across the street?" Mellie rewarded him with a smile and an imperious wave of her hand.

"I hate custard."

"Noted. No custard." Paul reluctantly left the warm covers and scrounged around for his clothes, they stayed in her apartment now. She hadn't been back in his since the attack by that "Russian floater", something that they both knew was complete crap but hadn't actually talked about. He didn't want to upset her when she was trying to get her sense of security back.

"And Jelly. I hate Jelly."

"No Jelly, no custard. I'm on it." The alarm clock blared to life, _6:30_, and Mellie silenced it with a swat of her hand. She pulled herself up against the headboard and watched him pull on his wrinkled shirt and pants.

"I'll be fine." Mellie answered his surprised look, "You're scowling. It's fine, I'll be fine…as long as you get breakfast here before I starve to death that is."

"I'll do my best."  


* * *

He locked the door on his way out, checked his apartment, checked the hallway, then hid in the stairwell for a few minutes before deciding it was safe to leave the building. Paul wasn't going to take anymore chances with her safety. Mellie got dragged into this because of him and he'd be damned if she felt the backlash while he bumbled around looking for a lead.

He'll do what Caroline...or whoever controlled Caroline had said, he'll change his tactics.

Let them think they won.

The streets were still shaking off the early morning quiet..well as quiet as LA ever got in it's mornings. The world still alternating shades of Grey as he drove to the only decent, higher-end place he knew would open this early. He'd grab her some flowers on his way back...ask the creepy teenager at the video store about the most popular chick flicks to rent, convince her to stay home from work with him. Mellie deserved to have his full attention and a little pampering after everything she'd done for him.

Been through for him.

* * *

  
She didn't come to the door.

Paul set the bags on the floor, opened the door slowly and called out to her.

"Paul?" Mellie peeked her head around the living room wall and smiled in relief. "Good, okay. Good." She relaxed and he heard the thump of something heavy hit the floor.

"Bat?" Paul questioned and handed her the flowers with a smile. She'd changed into one of those long skirts she loved so much and a tank top, no work clothes so he wouldn't have to persuade her to stay after all.

"Yeah, my old one from softball. Paul, these are beautiful, thank you!" Mellie bent her head to smell them and motioned to the a letter on the kitchen counter. "I ran down to get the mail, that was in with mine but I, uh, think it's for you."

She took the bags from him and walked into the kitchen, trying not to meet his eyes. Confused, Paul followed and felt a strange new mixture of apprehension and excitement at the sight of the plain, tan colored envelope, no post-mark, no address. Just the all-too familiar black marker and scrawled handwriting, this time the word _Surprise_ and nothing else.

"Think it's a good surprise? An early birthday present? Or keys to a new car?" Mellie moved around the kitchen, rearranging the flowers in their vase, searching for another one. She was nervous, scared at this new turn of events...and so was he. Because whatever it was, he highly doubted it would make his day any better.

"I don't know, let's find out." Paul gave her the most reassuring smile he could and tilted the envelope on it's end.

A CD fell out.

"Well, at least it's not a head." He chuckled with her and headed over to his laptop, cold and business-like next to her bright-green, sticker covered mini-something.

"Might be worse! Backstreet Boys?" Paul settled onto the couch, turned the laptop on and listened to the sound of Mellie grabbing plates and cups to join him. The mood had recovered, swung back around into 'happy, joking' territory and he was extremely grateful for it. He'd been short of light moments these past few months.

"Spice Girls!"

"Anything but them!" His laptop complained for a few moments before opening the necessary program and a woman's voice, English and monotone rang out.

_"There are three flowers in a vase, the third flower, is green."_.


End file.
